


An Inadequate Foundation

by ThatSoChangeableChick



Series: Hero to a Bond [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bat Family, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Family Feels, Gen, Siblings, family life, he human ok, sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSoChangeableChick/pseuds/ThatSoChangeableChick
Summary: The rocky foundation between Robin senior and Robin junior:--"Hi Dick-Face," Jason said and thoughtfully munched blueberries.Bruce admonished, "Jason."At least Bruce had stoppedlongingat Dick. It didn't matter if Jason and Dick got along. It didn't.





	An Inadequate Foundation

**Author's Note:**

> Yo!  
> I said it'd be a short while ... well, it's shorter, then before This is basically foundation for later, and that - well, that will be painful.  
> Have fun!

In the first five minutes Dick lived-up to the name. It was probably a record already plugged into the Batcave. Cassandra plodded into her seat at the breakfast table and made grabby hands at the pancakes beside Bruce. He diligently handed them off, and the passive-aggressive tension died a little.

Dick looked a little struck like whatever he'd heard through the Alfred-vine hadn't prepared him for two kids in his seat. It was sad but that's how it was, and Dick had willingly ducked out of this! It's Jason's advantage that Dick is loco! Jason hunched into his seat beside Cassandra. Bruce eye-smiled and nudged the blueberry bowl closer, and Jason hid a grin and stole it.

Fucking fruit, man! Epic.

He offered Cass some, she took three and made two eyes and a nose on her stack of pancakes. It was nudged to perfection. "Dick," Bruce waved a hand, "This is Cassandra and Jason. I am in the process of officially adopting them." It sounded stiff and Jason almost froze at the awkwardness, usually release of tension meant flying fists.

"Hi Dick-Face," Jason said and thoughtfully munched blueberries.

Bruce admonished, "Jason."

At least Bruce had stopped _longing_ at Dick. It didn't matter if Jason and Dick got along. It didn't. He had Cass, already, and – but Dick was here first, and it would make Bruce happier to know they got along, and there's so much he could learn from Dick, those were his records Jason was trying to match! Fuck, he had already fucked this up!

Cassandra brandished a fist and hesitantly, with a faint double-check with Bruce who nursed a coffee blank-faced, Dick fist-bumped back. That was not what she meant, still Cassandra beamed like heaven had bestowed a gift.

Ah, he'd fucked-up!

"Master Dick, if you wouldn't mind taking a seat for breakfast," Alfred, the all-knowing saint, said. Instead of do that, Dick offered a hand in the kitchen and Alfred took it. That was allowed? Like, help Alfred, it wasn't considered rude or something against his British-Butler nature? Wild.

Bruce longingly stared after his actual butler and first ward.

This place is wild.

Cassandra plopped a blueberry inside her mouth, replaced the nose with a sliced strawberry, and nudged Jason to reveal her masterpiece was a sliced banana smile. Cassandra thumbed-up a question. He thumbed it up back. Cassandra contently hummed and then destroyed that face beyond all humane recognition.

Jason ate blueberries.

"Did you sleep well?" Bruce questioned Jason. His steel-blues focused, and he shrugged a little into his shoulder to hide an unstoppable smile.

"Yeah," he said and laid the half-full blueberry bowl back, "That mattress real helped. Right, Cass?" The other mattress sank too much, and now, if Cass tucked hard-head into him enough it was almost comfortable. He half-elbowed and, cheeks chipmunk-full, Cass thumbed-up. Bruce huffed and handed Cassandra a napkin, which she took to baffle at before she tickled it on Jason's neck.

It was a goddamned ambush.

His dignity was caught by Bruce's hand and okay, Jason latched back a little, utilized the excuse to shuffle up to Bruce's side. Cassandra mockingly blinked.  

So that was the first encounter with Dick, the next was three months later, a fortnight before Jason's debut as Robin. Du-duh-duhm! The huge mansion had become familiar. He willingly removed his shoes, had tucked the shiv permanently inside his desk and sometimes kept his hands full.

Now, Cass napped everywhere and danced off everything and laughed louder, and when she looked up at Bruce there's a trust and brightness there that Jason hadn't known to dream about.

He knocked an ankle from his face, "I'm trying to study, Cass." The double-socked foot brushed his peripheral vision and cheek, "Cass – " he whined and knocked it off-course, sinking further into the large book with thick letters on his thighs.

"Uh –" That was not Cass, or Alfred, or Bruce. Jason stilled. Beside his head, Cassandra's feet did too. "Sorry. You wouldn't happen to know where Alfred is, or Bruce?" Dick said from the family living room arch.

Jason caught Cassandra's blue-blacks, mouth wiggled and Jason swallowed, "Um. Dad's out – um, I – I mean –" Shit. He is never speaking again. No, fuck that. Finish it. Finish this! "Alfred! On the second floor, East – there's a contractor, something about wall thickness –"

It was done and Jason could die in peace, head in a book like God intended. Cass's head shifted in thought, cheeks flushed from being head over heels, and the kick of her feet continued. "Uh, thanks. I'll just –" Dick said and it was real street-cred that Jason had barely looked at the dude and he'd bolted.

"Wait –" Cass hummed and rolled, dark hair puffed-out three sweaters falling off her shoulders, "I show," Cass declared. In Dick's next breath is faint protest but Cass had actually spoken it, there would be no fight. So, Cass padded over to Dick and Dick followed, and Jason sat there and couldn't read. His hand flexed in the book, he forcefully released it.

It's not like Cass would replace him. It's not like Dick would abruptly realize he'd lucked-out with Cass as a little sister –

"Jay-lad –" Oh, Bruce was back. He brushed back Jason's curls, "What's on your mind?" His stubble was fresh, faint exhaustion of a job well done, buttoned shirt already unlatched and usually Bruce would take a seat, read it all out and sound it all out like he had nothing better to do after a full day of work. His head hurt, "Dick's upstairs," Jason mumbled.

The head-rub stilled and restarted. It settled something ruffled in Jason. Bruce hummed, "With Alfred?" he said, all mild-like. It didn’t fool anyone but Jason appreciated the effort, especially as Bruce landed on the couch and tucked Jason closer so they'd both have ease to read.

He smiled, "Yeah. And Cass," Jason added.

Bruce hummed. The thick-biceped arm cradled, hand absent to mess Jason's locks. "Now, tell me what has you stuck, chum," Bruce asked, and the giddiness in Jason's chest beamed, wrapped in secure warmth, a protector against the world who also understood rhyming schemes and scansion.

That encounter wasn't all bad.

The next was … weird. It was a week with Robin underneath his belt, and Cassandra and Jason had sparred – more like tumbled and grabbled – when Nightwing's motorcycle roared in. At the Batcomputer, Batman stilled and continued skimming pre-patrol information.

His face smooshed, forearm wrapped around Cassandra's throat in a petty stalemate. Their presence wasn't obvious, so there's that. "You had no right!" Dick yelled, like he and Bruce were already in the thick of a battle. It wasn't … implausible. He shared an arched eyebrow with Cass, and they simultaneous hunkered down and kept quiet. "You can't just hand Robin off!"

Okay, yeah. That had hurt.

It wasn't Dick's fault. He and Cassandra were hidden in a training alcove, completely invisible to turned and ramrod backs. His sister silently grumbled her discontent and wasn't about to keep quiet but something in his face spoke, because the absent pinning tension flopped to boneless, if somewhat knobby, affection. Even as he drew back to watch, his mouth quirked in a smile.  

"You weren't using it." That barely sounded like Batman. Let alone Bruce.

Dick breathlessly laughed, sucker-punched too hard to weep, "Seriously, Bruce. Is that all you have to say to me?" His hands had folded, stance shifted in forced nonchalance, a scolding mother who wanted to teach a lesson but couldn't hide his irritation.

He fastened on Nightwing, "You won't take it from him," Batman ordered. It was a forced rhetorical question. The sweat steamed beneath Jason's collar. His chest ached, too tight to hold his lungs. Cass double-tapped his ear with a thumb. He waved it off.

"It wasn't yours to give," Dick whispered. It felt hurt, bellied truth, and Jason's stomach squirmed. He hadn't meant to steal it from Dick. Maybe – maybe, he'd find a different moniker, something without the weight of an unwilling predecessor.

Bruce called: "Cass, Jason." Well that wasn't an answer, and shit, which meant Dick is right. Robin isn't Batman's to hand out. Fuck. Now, he owed Dick. It took a second for that head tilt to calibrate to a direction but Nightwing had already found them.

He rainbowed a hand, "Hey, Dickie," Jason said.

Cass face-planted onto the firm ground.

His domino-stare was almost as stone-faced as Batman's. Dick inhaled, rolled golden bedazzled shoulders, which should've made it simple to quell his panic and induce hilarity but didn't, and Dick shook his head. Disturbed. Like they would soon understand his issues with B. "You didn't do anything wrong," Dick told them, " _I'm_ sorry you heard that."

It was so pointed Jason personally felt that stab in Bruce's side.

Dick washed his hands off, hopped and thrummed his customized motorbike out of there. It zoomed off with a quiet whir and screech. It left silence in its wake. Cass leveled on Bruce's back to curl into his throat, and Jason quietly padded forward to find the gravel-worried frown. Bruce looked sadder than he should've.

"I can still be Robin," he broke the silence, "Right?"

He could prove that he could cut it. If he was already owing Dick, then he'd at least do his name justice. Bruce wrapped a comfort-soft and hairy forearm around his shoulders, "Yes," he insisted. His sister hummed.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback me ;)


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